


sleepless in mankai

by atonalremix



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Gen, Insomnia, Late Night Conversations, Late Night Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25624138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atonalremix/pseuds/atonalremix
Summary: in an attempt to cure some late-night insomnia, Taichi learns that he's nowhere near the only one who feels blessed to be in Mankai– just as he's nowhere near the only one afraid of the day he has to leave them.
Relationships: Nanao Taichi & Minagi Tsuzuru
Comments: 8
Kudos: 68





	sleepless in mankai

Right when he was about to fall asleep, Taichi's entire body convulsed with sudden, intrusive insomnia. 

_You have to leave the Mankai Company some day,_ his brain had decided to remind him out of the blue. _No matter how much you love this place. No matter how much you want to keep acting on stage with everyone else. One day, you’ll have to make something of yourself - as an actor, and as a person, period._

Taichi swallowed down a sigh as he rolled over in his bed and listened to Omi's soft snoring. Outside their room, the trees shook with force from Misumi's parkour, or perhaps a super-strong breeze. The ceiling creaked from either Tasuku's or Tsumugi's footsteps (at this point, their strides had become one). The walls sometimes shook from the reverb of Ban-chan's and Juza's arguments, or someone across the hall– and all of this noise had become like home. 

Some day, his brain nagged at him, each and every one of them would leave Mankai for something new. None of them were guaranteed a forever future. Not even Sakyo-nii, and he was the yakuza that had loaned millions of yen to the place! 

Taichi pulled the blanket over him and tried to shake the thoughts out, one by one. He tried to focus on the sound of Omi’s snoring, or the rattling of the trees in the courtyard, or even Itaru’s colorful grumbling from down the hall. None of it consoled him. 

His time at Mankai would end like strike on closing night, and like the empty, clear stage, Taichi would have nothing to show for all his hard work. His younger sibs would be ashamed of him. _He_ would be ashamed of himself! 

Forcing in a deep breath, Taichi focused on the flow of air in and out of his lungs. His inopportune fears were just that: fear. He was probably panicking about an upcoming test, or some general crew practice for Winter Troupe’s upcoming show. For all he knew, he could be subconsciously panicking about next year's college entrance exams! He wasn't even preparing for those right now!!

His brain was just latching onto an endless loop of self-criticism in an attempt to ward sleep off. He just _had_ to remind himself of how little he had achieved in his short, miserable sixteen years. The darkness of the room stretched out further than usual, even with nightlights and the occasional burst of light from someone's phone flashlight. The longer Taichi stared up at the ceiling, the very edge of the room seemed to cave upon him.

One of his fashion magazines said that if he wanted to cure insomnia, he needed to get out of bed. A good stretch, and maybe a glass of milk for good measure? The change of pace might kick his anxiety into the stratosphere. _Vague_ championed it! Or, well, something like it anyway. A break from the darkness would do him some good.

 _No, you're just going to leave forever_ , his brain taunted him as he crept down his bunk-bed ladder and snuck out his own bedroom door. _You can't pretend that you'll slip right back under these covers and act with Mankai for the rest of your life. What about a girlfriend? A 'real' job? Marriage? All of those things you wanted for yourself?_

His brain was awfully cruel in the middle of the night. Taichi couldn’t understand the logic in such taunts, let alone why they decided to attack now of all times, but he certainly wasn’t going to beat those brain aliens away in the darkness of his room. 

What triggered that stupid train of thought, anyway?

Was it Omi's snoring? The occasional scuffle and Itaru's disgruntled scream when he lost a game (which, by the way, had occurred three times tonight already)? The loud thud that announced Misumi's parkour landings? Ban-chan's singing, when he thought no one was awake to hear him? The washing machine churning over and over because someone (read: Yuki) was cleaning costume fabric?

Or possibly, some other white noise altogether had caused the stupid chain reaction. Mankai was always so, so loud. Even in the middle of the night, the dorms were bursting with life. At any hour, any time, someone else would also be awake. The idea comforted Taichi, a little. No matter where he went, he could find someone else to lean on. Hopefully metaphorically, though. Taichi still remembered almost stepping on Hisoka in the courtyard the other day… 

(“Not my marshmallows,” Hisoka had groaned as he dodged Taichi's feet, right before turning over and planting his face into the grass. “I’ll… fight you for them…”)

The courtyard was empty at this hour; ditto for the practice team. With a full dorm, though, Taichi wasn’t surprised that the kitchen lights were on, let alone that he could hear the soft roll of boiling water from the stove. Even from the entrance, the strong fragrance of bergamot lingered.

An open laptop sat on the dining table, right next to a coiled-up charger and a couple of scattered notebooks. The screen was open to a word processor, and a half-written page of praise for some random website (“You’ve got 99 problems, but our platform ain’t one of them”). 

Taichi wasn’t exactly a genius, but it sure didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who else was battling their insomnia. 

“Tsuzuru-kun?” He called out to the stove. “You over there?” 

“Taichi-kun?” Tsuzuru flinched, nearly dropping a tin of tea bags. “What’re you doing up so late?”

Taichi let out a soft, nervous laugh as he took a seat. “Sorry! I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get something to drink.” 

“Hang on. I’ll make you a cup too.” 

Tsuzuru emerged from the kitchen with two cups of hot green tea in each hand. He set one mug down in front of Taichi, and one by his stack of notebooks. 

“You’re still doing homework?” Taichi dared to ask as his gaze fell over Tsuzuru’s makeshift workstation.

Two of those books were composition notebooks, no doubt filled with story ideas or witty quotes. One was a student planner with dozens of colorful post-it tabs sticking out from the top, and the rest were paperback novels from the local library. A few pens were scattered nearby, along with torn, crumpled up pieces of paper. 

“I have a paper due in a couple of days,” Tsuzuru admitted. “It’s too cold to go outside, so I thought I’d try to finish it here.” 

Taichi wrapped his hands around the warm mug and inhaled the fragrant scent of peaches. Peach green tea, hmm… This might’ve been Homare’s, or even their Director-sensei’s. Taichi couldn’t imagine Tsuzuru rummaging around for this stuff naturally, or even on a whim that wasn’t dictated by writer’s block. Future-Tsuzuru and Future-Taichi would apologize for not waking Homare up, if they also weren't envious of their poet's ability to sleep.

“So you’re _not_ writing the next play?”

“Not yet,” Tsuzuru raised his eyebrows in amusement as he took his seat. “Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ have other obligations.”

“And 84 part time jobs! I remember,” Taichi teased, blowing on his tea before taking that initial sip. 

Tsuzuru had sweetened the tea with a generous dose of honey (no doubt to ease their throats, in the cold). It was warm, and sweet, and oh-so soothing. Almost like something Omi would’ve made them, were he awake.

“Yeah, well–” Tsuzuru grimaced as he reached for one of the paperback novels. He set his mug down before flipping through the pages, as if one of those stories held the key to the universe– “Those part-time jobs don't do much for inspiration these days.” 

“What do you need inspiration for?” Taichi leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table. 

He wouldn’t call himself a writer, let alone much of a reader. Literature class didn’t make much sense in school– and whenever Tsumugi helped him with his homework, Taichi’s imagination would derail tutoring sessions into another universe altogether. The written words never quite correlated with Taichi’s own innate experience (or in Tsumugi’s words, ‘the tests aren’t quite as imaginative as you are.’) 

In comparison, Tsuzuru seemed almost superhuman. From the very first play _Romeo and Julius_ to Mankai’s latest _Ginji the Wanderer_ , every story had its own separate, distinct heartbeat. Tsuzuru pulled from so many different genres and voices that it seemed almost impossible to keep them all straight! His voice was unparalleled, really.

Tsuzuru was looking at him, but it wasn’t with the usual concern. Instead, his gaze had softened with sudden empathy, as if he were mentally rearranging his impression of Taichi into another category altogether.

“I’m working on an assignment. I’m supposed to present a copy to a local ad agency, but I keep freezing up before I even begin.” 

“Copy?”

“In advertising, a copy is the text in an advertisement. Like uh, the ads you get in your email? Or the captions on sponsored ads when you’re scrolling Instablam?”

Taichi nodded, even if he was still a bit confused– “So you’re studying advertisements? Um, I mean, how to make ads?” 

“It’s more practical than screenwriting.” Tsuzuru’s eyes darkened as he peered up from his book. The light had disappeared entirely from his smile, and his eyes were no longer crinkling with secret delight. “Big corporations are always looking for copywriters. Outside of Mankai, screenwriting jobs are… well, a lot harder to find.” 

An uneasy silence threatened to fall over the room. 

Taichi blinked back surprise, rubbing his eyes in a desperate attempt to assert what he was seeing– Tsuzuru’s homework was in _advertising_? His big, thick textbooks were to help him sell random products on TV and Insta?

Part of Taichi didn’t understand. The superhuman playwright of Mankai shouldn’t have to resort to such practical applications of his talent. Part of Taichi, however, could sense the desperation in choosing such a career– and his stomach churned in sympathy. No one should have to choose the practical over their dream. Especially not someone as talented and witty as Tsuzuru.

Instead of saying all of that, or even a fraction of that, Taichi blurted out, “Mankai’s amazing, isn’t it?” 

Tsuzuru gawked at him with a wide, open jaw for a few seconds, before pulling himself back together with a quick nod. “Yeah. I… I can’t thank the Director enough, really.”

“Me either,” Taichi confided, pulling both legs up under him and giving Tsuzuru his full attention. “Mankai trusted me when no one else would. They didn’t even have any reason to, you know? Not when the God Troupe was breathing down my neck like that. I… I wanna stay here forever.” 

“I know what you mean,” Tsuzuru agreed, almost inaudibly. “I wish we could too.” 

“I keep worrying about the fact that we gotta leave some day. Like, I.. I was gonna go right to bed, and bam! I remember that nothing good lasts forever, and maybe I was stupid to hope for something so good and–,” Taichi coughed. He seized his mug, ignoring the water sloshing onto his hands, and hoped that the sudden heat would still his nerves. 

He didn’t mean to say all of that out loud! Vocalizing his fear gave it real meaning!! God, now he was gonna die, or at least be permanently bro-zoned by the most level-headed guy in the entire troupe! 

“Me too.” Tsuzuru lowered his laptop, reaching out for Taichi’s other hand. “This company feels like a dream. I can’t thank Mankai enough for allowing us to pursue our passions - and to show the world just what we can do. But deep down, I think most of us know we can’t be here forever.”

Taichi peered down at his drink, ignoring the way his brow furrowed. 

Taking silence as a tacit answer, Tsuzuru continued, “Taichi-kun. It’s going to be okay. Our time here is special. It just also means we gotta make every moment here count.” 

“How?” 

“For starters, we’re up in the middle of the night, aren’t we? Burning the midnight oil at both ends while everyone else is asleep?” 

Tsuruzu sounded so dang _amused_ \- like the big brother on every single sitcom and drama Taichi loved. Then again, Tsuzuru did have seven younger brothers. Tsuzuru was born for these moments. 

Taichi had to laugh, despite it all. “Yeah. Insomnia’s the worst.” 

“Tell me about it,” Tsuzuru sighed, glancing over at his books. “I don’t think that copy’s gonna write itself.” 

“Well, what are you trying to advertise?” 

“Originally, I was trying to write for a local agency’s app. Show them that I’m capable of generating copy and some content for a bunch of different audiences.” 

“What about writing an ad for Mankai? Kazu-kun’s already got the website up and stuff, and Matsukawa-san and Director-sensei can’t write _everything_. Maybe you could do like, a summary of _Ginji_ for the website, and one of those press releases for your professor.” 

Tsuzuru sat up straighter. “That’s genius.” 

“Really?” Taichi couldn’t help the surprise in his voice. No one had ever called him a genius before. 

Imaginative, sure. Resourceful, even more so. Creative, yeah. Genius? Never. Not in his lifetime, and certainly not until this very moment. His grades and red-stained homework assignments would’ve liked to tell Tsuruzu otherwise. Heck, his homeroom teacher could’ve given Tsuzuru a whole lecture series on Taichi’s numerous failures and struggles! 

“Seriously.” Tsuzuru squeezed Taichi’s hand, with all the relief in the universe. Exhaustion had settled into their playwright’s shoulders, and was beginning to creep into the poor guy’s voice too. “I hadn’t thought about using Mankai for my schoolwork before. I think… if I can churn this all out by tomorrow afternoon, it’ll give me enough time to start working on the next script.” 

Tsuzuru pulled his laptop back up and began typing. His fingers flew off the keyboard, and the room was filled with the rapidfire sound of keys clacking against the metal laptop frame– as well as the lingering fragrance of peaches and honey. 

Mankai wasn’t going to last forever. Yuzo was living proof that some day, even the brightest troupes would disperse into the world and create something new. Mankai Company might last for generations. This rebirth of Mankai, however, was guaranteed no such thing. Every play was a gamble, and every closing night was the culmination of months of hard work and a desperate hope that they would stay afloat long enough for the next show.

As Taichi watched Tsuzuru slam down the keys into a cacophonic rhythm that rivaled Itaru’s button-mashing, he could sense the wonder of their Troupe. Mankai had been the first place to accept both of their dreams and hold them up to the center spotlight. Mankai was truly special – and Taichi could tell that they were only just beginning to bloom. His brain had been totally, completely wrong: he was only just beginning his career.

Sure, he would have to leave some day, just as he would have to graduate from Ouka High and hopefully enroll in Yosei or Veludo Arts. He also didn't have to think about that inevitable future right now.

Mankai was still blooming, and Taichi was still finding his roots. Only when they would both blossom, with all of the fruits of their hard labor, would he feel secure enough to move on. _That_ , Taichi realized, was the key.

Tsuzuru had no idea of the lifeline he had just offered Taichi, but then again– it was really late. Sleeplessness wasn't exactly conducive to rational, sensible thought.

As Taichi rose to his feet and gathered the empty mugs, Tsuzuru flashed him a grateful smile. 

“Thanks.” 

“I didn’t do anything,” Taichi pointed out, returning Tsuzuru’s smug amusement back at him. He could be a cool older brother, too – and not just because his honor and reputation was at stake. Taichi Nanao was the oldest son! He knew how to handle a younger sibling! “This was all you, Tsuzuru-kun.” 

Tsuzuru scrunched his entire face up at Taichi as he paused, mid-typing, “Okay, when you throw it back at me, I see how it sounds.” 

Taichi’s laugh was loud and hearty as he set the mugs in the kitchen sink and rolled up his sleeves. “Encouraging, right? Hehe, I told you I could be a good big bro!” 

“Sure, if that’s what we’re calling it these days.” Tsuzuru trailed off, leaning back in his seat. “But…what you said about staying here forever...” 

“Well, unfortunately, we’re not vampires. Your legs are gonna be real sore if you don’t move around some.” Taichi hummed as he turned the hot water on and began to wash the mugs. Omi would want a clean kitchen– and Taichi didn’t want to make his roommate’s life any harder than it currently was. “So as soon as you're done, you should get some sleep, okay?” 

“I should be telling you that! Go back to bed already.”

Taichi bit on his tongue to keep from laughing, right as he set the washed mugs on the drying rack, “Going! I'm going, promise.” 

“Vampires, though…” Tsuzuru reached for a pen, scribbling on a nearby blank piece of paper. His handwriting was almost as fast as his typing - and honestly, that realization was terrifying. “That could be…” 

Taichi couldn’t help shaking his head as he turned towards the door. 

“Sleep, Tsuzuru-kun! Remember, we’re _mortal_ , and mortals gotta get a full eight hours or girls won’t come to them! Girls will take one look at all those bags and think we’re the living dead!” 

The ensuing stare from Tsuzuru was almost worth the deliberate remark. Almost, because Taichi couldn’t fight the soft laughs escaping his lips as he slipped out the side door.

“For real? Not everything has to be about girls!!” He could hear Tsuzuru moan, right as the keyboard clacking ramped up in volume. 

“No, it doesn't,” Taichi had to admit to himself as he walked back to his room. As much as he wanted a girlfriend, and a steady job, and a happy, solid marriage, he knew, deep down, that girls were only a superficial symbol of popularity. They were just as fleeting as time itself. In the end, the real symbol of time – the most important and longest-lasting symbol of all – were the bonds they shared. Tonight had been living proof of that. “But it made you feel like everything was back to normal, didn’t it?”

**Author's Note:**

> the first fic I write for this fandom, and of course it's fueled by my own experiences with late-night insomnia... 
> 
> timeline-wise, this takes place right after 'A Tag-Team Halloween' (so, current events in the EN server) and also right before the Winter Troupe's third play, _Nocturnality_. As far as canon compliance - I'm unsure if we were ever given Tsuzuru's college major (or if we ever will be given said major), but this fic implies he's screenwriting-adjacent with copywriting & marketing. 
> 
> thank you for reading, esp. if you made it this far!!


End file.
